


Someday

by redrioting



Series: zine fics [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron) Needs a Hug, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Team Dynamics, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrioting/pseuds/redrioting
Summary: Shiro is tired and they know.





	Someday

**Author's Note:**

> preorders have closed, so i can finally post my piece for the [shiroxrest zine](https://twitter.com/shiroxrest) !! it was so cool getting to work with everyone and was the one and only reason ive ever written a vld fic !!

Shiro is tired.

 

In fact, tired seems to be the understatement of the century. Shiro could feel waves of exhaustion slamming into him, dragging him under a sea of doubt and anxiety with the force of responsibilities over the lives of others -- over the entire  _ universe _ . Over the life of his best friend, over his own family, over a dying alien race, over teens too far away from home with bigger dreams and even larger determination. 

 

He shakes his head, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath to clear clear away the tingling feeling that rushes through him. He tries to forget about the bone-deep exhaustion, about the scars that mar his mind, body, and soul, about the memories that haunt him like furious spirits, spitting at him at every turn -- too dark, too harsh, too real.

 

_ I’m sorry Matt. _

 

Shiro presses his fist against the wall, wincing at the pain crackling over his body. He knows it isn’t real, knows it’s remnants of weapons biting into his skin. The ghost pain isn’t the worst he’s experienced after escaping the Galra, and it certainly won’t be the last he’d experience at the hands of them either.

 

“Steady, Takashi,  _ steady _ ,” he murmurs, breath stuttering in his chest as it constricts under the force of imaginary ropes curling around him, forcing him to struggle despite Shiro’s best attempts at freeing himself. 

 

Another fog threatens to overwhelm Shiro, everything overlaid by layers of monochrome, distant and out of reach, timeless and constant; a ticking clock that never breaks. He sees soft hazel eyes hidden behind large, round glasses through the fog, they blink at him quizzically, as if to ask  _ are you quite sane?  _

 

The effect is instantaneous. Shiro gasps and falls to his knees, regret and anguish blending together until it’s only a whirlpool of emotions crashing into him. The beginnings of hopelessness bubble up in him and he sighs, drained.

 

He’s never going to be free of his nightmares, of decisions and actions, of his memories and the lost year of his life.

 

How does someone manage to escape their very own being? 

 

Shiro laughs then, a brittle noise that comes out rough and raspy as he sinks lower on his bed. He shakes his head, chuckles slowly quieting, and looks down at his arms. 

 

One warm, the other cold. One living and organic and  _ his _ , the other taken from him and replaced by something dark and inorganic and  _ dead _ . He notices the differences -- how can he not when it’s so  _ obvious? _ But he must admit, it surprises him some days.

 

His last laugh turns into a sob and Shiro buries his face in his pillow.

 

[] [] [] 

 

He’s been through over a year in captivity; chained, beaten, and tortured. He’s watched pain and anguish flood the many faces of other prisoners around him, forced to battle each other, shipped across different sections of the Galra empire to fight in larger arenas with grander, higher-betting audiences in more dangerous conditions to battle for the amusement of the soldiers aboard the ship they were on.

 

So Shiro believes he’s built up a tolerance for withstanding shocking announcements or ideas. 

 

That is, until Pidge and Hunk start scheming. Shiro can feel his nerves constantly on edge with every move the two made.

 

“Shiro,” Pidge says solemnly one day, Hunk and Lance following behind them with matching expressions. “Gimme your arm.”

 

He jolts and sends them a look. “I’m sorry, what?”

 

“Your arm, we’re gonna need it.”

 

The next five ticks is a mess of exhausted yelling and running around after Shiro lets Hunk help remove his arm and Lance rushes to his room, with a “ _ Keith give me one of your weird emo t-shirts!”  _ before he returns with something warm with luminescent Altean markings on it.

 

He passes it to Shiro, instructing him to press it to his stub and shows him a pattern to massage into it. “It’s really all in the thumb, you gotta make sure you put enough pressure on the joint and press into your skin like that!”

 

“You guys really shouldn’t trouble yourselves,” his smile is awkward, crooked with uncertainty and discomfort but shining with hints of admiration. “We’ve got to work on our next plan--”

 

“And we are, just not the plan you mean,” Pidge says, pulling up a hologram filled with detailed sketches, peering at it intently while humming and swiping at the screen to show other sketches on it. Soft blue washes over their face. They tap several boxes on the screen before tendrils of light flow from the hologram to wrap around Shiro’s stump. 

 

Pidge nods at Hunk and Allura. “All set.”

 

They both walk towards Shiro, Hunk holding a prosthetic with a similar design to the more refined sketch on Pidge’s hologram. “Allura directed the Quintessence to power up the final prototype we made,” Hunk explained, lifting up the arm brandished with letterings and emblems etched carefully into the metal’s surface, curving around all the edges.

 

“These Altean symbols are quite traditional,” Allura explains, running her fingers across the designs. “They mean  _ one with self, forever bound to mind and soul _ , and are for the honourable and the compassionate.”

 

He blinks at her, mind reeling with the new information, but nevertheless, tilts his head forward in respect. “I appreciate the sentiment, Princess, it’s… really more than I deserve.” 

 

“It’s made using Balmera crystals and some metals that are known to be precious on Altea,” Coran pipes in, a grin splitting his face as he points out the different coloured patches of metal. “Some of the Quintessence from the Castle and your Lion is in this very arm! Cosier than that Galra whatnot in your other one.”

 

Shiro gapes at it, shaking his head and covering Allura’s hand with own, stopping her from removing Keith’s shirt wrapped around his stump. “I - I really - ah, thank you, I’m, uh.”

 

“Clearly very speechless,” Pidge comments. Lance shushes them quickly, waving at Shiro to continue.

 

“I don’t think I can accept it I’m -”

 

_ Vile, a Galra’s experiment, how could I use Altean material after all the Galra have done to them? _

 

“Entirely deserving of rest, Shiro,” Allura interrupts with a soft smile. “You’ve done so much, gone  _ through _ so much, as well. You’ve helped bring together Voltron, it’s the least we could do to at least resolve some of your pain, no matter how everlasting it is.”

 

Shiro pauses then, unsure how to respond or to react to the expectant faces before him. He startles out of it when Hunk touches his shoulder, he raises the prosthetic cradled in his arms and nods encouragingly. 

 

“I…  _ thank you _ ,” he whispers, so quiet, like he might break everything that’s been built around him, all the change he’s gone through, all the struggles and the accomplishments that led him to be protected and loved by the six individuals in front of him. “Thank you,  _ so much.” _

 

Everyone grins back, ignoring the way Shiro’s eyes water or the splotches of red that cover his cheeks as Hunk and Lance help fit the new arm on. Once done, they both move back and pat Shiro on the shoulder, matching expressions of happiness.

 

“Gotta take care of our Head, eh Hunk?”

 

“I still think we should switch it up sometimes…”

 

“We should,” Shiro says, voice thick. “Someday.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading !! im a greedy bean who's fueled by attention n comments ~~wink wonk~~
> 
> screm at me on [tumblr](amajikies.tumblr.com) or [twitter!!](twitter.com/mistakepng)
> 
> \- mack


End file.
